


Forest Faerie

by mikhailomeddows



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: ? maybe, Could Possibly Be Soulmates, Fluff, I Mean It's Gallavich So Yeah, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's Soulmates, M/M, Mentions of Character Death, Smut, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 19:49:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhailomeddows/pseuds/mikhailomeddows
Summary: The Forest works in weird and wonderful ways.





	Forest Faerie

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, i'm not entirely sure what this is. It's based entirely off a dream I had, so please enjoy.

The initial idea of taking a short trip away from home seemed like a good one. Even if he only had a couple hundred to his name and a bag pack thrown over his shoulder, anything seemed better than spending more time with Terry and his punches and even more hurtful words.

 

The receptionist at the motel Mickey was staying at had briefly mentioned a forest a couple miles away, and although he had scoffed at the idea and gruffly asked for his “fucking keys”, he was now 3 days into his trip and had done nothing but eke out the beer he’d bought and flick through the limited channels on the crappy tv, and he was bored.

 

So, at around 4pm on a Sunday, he finally unpacked his clothes from his bag pack, and replaced them with any food and drink he had available along with his keys and phone and left his motel room for the forest.

 

“You got enough food?” The voice startled him, but he tried not to show it and turned around to see the receptionist, a different receptionist from before, sat behind the desk.

 

She was chewing obnoxiously loudly on some gum, her legs thrown on the desk, leaning backwards and forwards on the squeaky desk chair. She smirked at Mickey and twiddled a chewed biro.

 

“What?” Mickey asked, both confused and exasperated. He hated having to talk to new people, and the Idea of this little trip to the forest was to avoid them at all costs.

 

“You’re going to the forest, right?” She replied, taking her legs off the desk and leaning forward, eyes wild, as she chewed and twiddled. “You got enough food?”

 

Mickey decided it just wasn’t worth it, and rolled his eyes with a sigh, before pushing open the heavy door and leaving. He heard a cackle like laughter after the door slammed shut behind him, and he shivered involuntarily.

 

The conversation kept playing over and over in his head as he leant against the cold window of the bus, earphones lodged in his ears and blasting music loud enough that he was getting odd looks from the passengers surrounding him.

 

He didn’t really care though, he was too focused on the echo of witch like laughter and wild eyes. Something seemed odd about the receptionist, but it could have just been drugs or some shit. Mickey had had a lot of experience with that.

 

He chuckled darkly to himself at that thought, remembering the times his mother would come home high as a kite, her eyes way too bright and her speech rambled and barely understandable. Mickey used to hate those nights, because she started off happy and excited, but by the end she’d be screaming her throat raw and throwing plates at walls as Mickey hid in Iggy’s bed with Mandy and Colin, hands pressed so firmly against his ears it hurt. But still, those nights were better than the ones where he couldn’t hear her at all.

 

Mickey didn’t even realise how long he’d been inside his head until the bus screeched to a halt and the sky was slightly darker than it was before.

 

He inhaled sharply as he came to his senses, looking around at the now empty bus and the never-ending forest that was outside his fogged-up window.

 

He grabbed his bag and swiftly made for the exit but stopped when he heard someone cough purposefully Behind him.

 

He turned around to see the bus driver offering him a flashlight with a polite smile. Mickey hesitantly took it, eyes flickering between the object and the drivers shy smile.

 

“It gets pretty dark pretty quick in there,” the driver said with a small chuckle. Mickey nodded his thanks in return and shoved the flashlight into his front pocket before hopping off the bus. He’d barely gotten off the last step before the bus sped off, cold air smacking Mickey in the face.

 

Mickey took in the sight of the tall, green trees in almost awed wonder. Spending the vast majority of his life in the Chicago Southside meant he never really saw shit like this, the trees he did see were usually individual and planted randomly to make the neighbourhood seem more welcoming, but they just looked awkward and out of place with little to no leaves or charred wood from teenagers with access to fire.

 

This was completely different. Miles and miles of green with the setting sunlight lighting up the dried mud ground through the gaps, making it look like a fucking fairy-tale.

 

He walked into the woods looking up, his mouth dropped open. It was simultaneously ominous and comforting, the sunlight and noises of wildlife surrounding him gave it a serene feel and Mickey automatically felt his worries disappear, but the height and amount of the trees made it seem as if they were closing in on you, suffocating you.

 

He eventually came across an old, wooden plaque with a map nailed to it, “Welcome to Black Hills Forest!” Scribbled on top. He quickly found the “You are here!” Sign, and traced the track with his finger in an attempt to memorise the way. Eventually, he just decided on walking for about an hour before turning back to ensure he didn’t get lost. So, he hitched his backpack up higher, and started the trek into the forest.

 

——

 

Thirty minutes in, and he was eternally grateful for the bus driver giving him a flashlight.  He contemplated just turning back now, but he didn’t seem scared or tired, and there was an almost nagging compulsion telling him to continue on his journey into the forest, so he carried on, flashlight bright in his hand as the natural lighting dimmed quicker and quicker.

 

He somehow felt lighter than he ever had before as he walked along those dirt trails, an easy smile tugging unconsciously on his lips. he was practically skipping, and that was definitely something a Milkoivch did not do.

 

He barely even jumped when a voice suddenly sounded from his left, just a small “hello.” 

 

There was a boy standing there in between the trees, perhaps a little younger than Mickey himself. He was wearing dirty, worn clothes, the original colour of the fabric unrecognisable. But he looked clean, clean ginger hair, clean freckled skin, clean fingers fiddling with each other. But he wasn’t wearing any shoes, for some reason.

 

“Sup?” Mickey greeted, halting his steps. The boy came out further towards him, dry leaves and sticks crunching under the weight of his bare feet, and Mickey couldn’t stop himself from dragging his eyes up and down the guys body, nodding subtly in appreciation.

 

“I’m Ian,” the boy, Ian, said, sticking his hand out quickly and blinking owlishly at Mickey.

 

Mickey shrugged before accepting the offered hand, and Ian’s face lit up in a smile. “Mickey.”

 

“How long have you been here, Mickey?” Ian asked, cocking his head to the side like a curious animal. To be honest, Ian’s whole personality seemed like a curious animal, a lost puppy sort of.

 

“Uh, about 40 minutes?” Mickey replied as a question, not really knowing how long he had been in the forest. It didn’t feel like that long, but the sun had set completely now so realistically it had probably been a couple hours, but he still didn’t want to turn back yet.

 

“Oh!” Ian exclaimed, seeming genuinely surprised. Mickey began walking after that, and Ian didn’t even think before joining, but Mickey didn’t mind too much. “Well, I’ve been here me whole life.”

 

Mickey couldn’t help but laugh at that, the noise starting as a snort but eventually erupting through his mouth and shaking his body with it. Through squinted eyes, he looked up at Ian, but he wasn’t laughing. He was completely serious, and almost seemed a little offended by Mickey’s sudden outburst.

 

“You’re kidding, right?” Mickey eventually asked, laughter stopping once he saw Ian’s face. Ian didn’t reply. “You’re not kidding?”

 

“Why would I kid?” Ian eventually replied, and Mickey noticed the fact his voice sent shivers down his spine and dripped out of his freckled lips like honey.

 

“Oh,” Mickey nodded, and he had no clue why he suddenly believed this random man with no shoes. Mickey squinted at Ian again. “I swear I recognise you though,”

 

And there was something familiar about Ian. Something about the shade of ginger in his hair, the light constellations of freckles dotted over his skin and even the shape of his nose reminded him of something. Reminded him of _home_. And not the home full of shouting and clanging metal and bloody knuckles. That wasn’t really a home, that was a place he barely survived in. No, Ian reminded him of the warmth of arms wrapped tight around your body and soft words whispered against the top of your head and _love_. Or, at least, what Mickey remembered of love.

 

Mickey shook his head to rid it of those thoughts, chuckling to himself about how gay that all sounded.

 

“Hm,” Ian said, tapping his index finger against his chin in faux concentration. “Perhaps you recognise me from your dreams?” Ian said it with a completely straight face, but Mickey cold see his green eyes shining with mirth.

 

Mickey fake gagged at the comment but ignored the way his stomach fluttered as Ian laughed, and didn’t even question the ringing bells that seemed to accompany it.

 

They walked in silence after that, but it wasn’t awkward, and Mickey watched in amusement as Ian walked along the ground as if it was a tight rope, arms stretched to his sides and putting one bare foot in front of the other. He wobbled and occasionally put his hand on Mickey’s shoulder to steady himself, but barely acknowledged it before carrying on his fake tight rope activity.

 

“What are you doing?” Mickey eventually asked around a chuckle, flashing the light at the ground to clearly show Ian’s feet.

 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” Ian replied, eyes not leaving the floor and concentration lacing his voice.

 

Mickey snorted “cute,” but immediately froze after he said it. It was as if the words slipped out on their own accord, like he couldn’t bring up his usual barrier and stop them before he got in trouble.

 

Ian just smiled brightly at him in return, and Mickey swore he could see him glowing. “You’re cute too, Mickey.” Mickey actually blushed at that comment, his Porcelain skin flushing to a light pink, and he knew Ian noticed but he luckily didn’t comment on it.

 

Suddenly, Ian’s hands were on his cheeks, cupping them delicately but with obvious intent, and pink lips where pressed against his own. Mickey’s eyes widened, but he couldn’t bring himself to push the ginger haired boy away, but he didn’t wait long before the sweet, almost inexperienced kiss was over.

 

Ian was smiling softly at him through hooded eyes, his thumb caressing Mickey’s now perpetually red cheeks.

 

“What the fuck was that?” Mickey eventually growled, stepping out of Ian’s grip but unable to drop his gaze from the mesmerising green eyes.

 

Ian’s face didn’t change, showed no sign of hurt at Mickey’s rejection. “You wanted to kiss me, I could tell.” He ran his fingers through his hair, and Mickey groaned internally over how much that turned him on.

 

“Well, I- “Mickey sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to articulate what he wanted to say.

 

“Okay then, I won’t kiss you unless you ask me to, or you kiss me first then.” And Ian didn’t wait for Mickey’s answer, just continued his tight rope walk, knowing Mickey would follow him.

 

He did.

 

——

They spent what felt like barely an hour laughing and joking together, but once Mickey actually acknowledged his surroundings, the sun was slowly rising and birds where chirping loudly high above them.

 

And yet, Mickey felt no inclination to make his way back to the motel, he wanted to stay with Ian.

 

“So, what’s it like in the Southside?” Ian asked as they sat down on a fallen tree, thighs touching.

 

“Uh,” Mickey started, rubbing his nose in embarrassment. He’d never been embarrassed of where he grew up, he was proud in fact, but he didn’t want Ian thinking of him as less when he knew the sort of environment he was raised in. “Nothing’ like this.”

 

Mickey hoped Ian would just drop it, but he was watching him with those wide eyes he’d grown accustomed to, his chin resting against his fist, and Mickey had learnt quickly that he couldn’t deny that face anything. “It’s like, really shitty man. There’s a lot of violence and drugs and it’s real fuckin’ dangerous, but its home, you know?”

 

Ian nodded slowly at that, eyes glistening, and for a minute Mickey thought he was going to cry, but his grin was back a second later. “That sounds really cool.” He sounded so enthusiastic about it, and Mickey scratched the back of his neck with a crooked smile. “But it does sound very different to here.” Ian stood up abruptly, and span with his arms out wide and Mickey laughed at his cheesiness but felt his heart ache over the fact he was so carefree.

 

“There’s only a few of us here and we hardly get visitors, that’s why I’m so glad I found you,” Ian said once he’d finished spinning and looked directly at Mickey’s eyes with an intensity that left him breathless. “But it’s fun. It seems like we have the world to ourselves, and it’s really quite beautiful.” Ian’s eyes were soft when he spoke those words, dopey smile gracing his lips, and Mickey wondered if it was too early to fall in love.

 

“I want to show you my world, Mickey.” Ian held out his hand towards Mickey, and for once no thoughts crossed his mind as he excepted it and tangled their fingers together, easily slotting into place and if they were carved for one another.

 

They walked and walked but it didn’t feel like a struggle or as if they’d wasted any time, but eventually they came across a little river and waterfall where naked women and men were washing.

 

The amount of people would have usually worried Mickey, especially with the amount of wet, naked men that he had to pretend not to be gawking at, but right now he felt almost comfortable, and the only person he was staring at was Ian.

 

“This is my family,” Ian introduced, gesturing with the hand that wasn’t linked with Mickey’s. There was about 40 of them in total, all naked and leaping through the running water or lounging on the river bank. A woman with faded pink hair sauntered towards them, and she moved with such grace and elegance that Mickey was left stunned.

 

“Who’s this, Ian?” She spoke in a similar way to Ian, voice velvety smooth and comforting. She was smiling at Mickey in a welcoming manner, water droplets sliding down her dark skin.

 

“Pearl, this is Mickey.” Ian introduced, lifting their interlocked hands into her vision. Mickey didn’t even flinch at the thought of someone knowing about him and another man and just smiled politely back at Pearl after Ian and her shared a look.

 

She nodded at Mickey in greeting, and her honey eyes made him feel comfort akin to that he felt when he used to curl up in his mother’s arms at night before she replaced him with a needle.

 

Pearl left after that, and Mickey quickly looked towards Ian as he felt the loss of his warm hand, but his gaze immediately dropped when he saw him shucking off his shirt.

 

He dropped the shirt to the ground without a second thought and Mickey immediately assumed that was why his clothes were so filthy.

 

Ian wasted no time in slipping out of his jeans and underwear and was stood there in record time, nude as the day he was born, body confidence oozing off him in waves. 

 

And fuck, did Ian have a good body. He was built in just the right ways, Rock hard abs obvious and a deep v-line leading to a large cock dangling between his legs, one that made Mickey’s own twitch with want.

 

Ian started walking towards the river and Mickey had no second thoughts before ripping his own clothes up and joining Ian in the water.

 

His initial thought was of how warm the water was, almost like it was a bath. But that thought was replaced by the general calmness the water seemed to exude. It was similar to the calm that came after smoking a blunt, but ten times better because Ian was staring at him like he wanted to devour and worship him.

 

Mickey smirked as he waded his way through the tide-less river before he was chest to chest with Ian, looking up at his lust blown eyes.

 

Mickey’s initial thought was to tease him, see how long he lasted before he broke the deal he had about not kissing Mickey and fucking him until he couldn’t walk, but fuck, Mickey was a horny twenty-year-old and this sudden change from childlike innocence to sex god in Ian was doing a lot for him.

 

So, he grabbed Ian by the scruff of his neck and stood on his tiptoes to capture those pink lips in his own. And suddenly, Ian wasn’t a sweet, inexperienced kisser, he was dominant and well-practiced, tongue immediately shoving into Mickey’s mouth, causing him to groan.

 

Ian’s hand travelled down to below the water and grabbed at Mickey’s ass cheek, bringing him closer until the cocks were flush together and Mickey had a leg wrapped around Ian’s thigh.

 

“Fuck,” Mickey sighed as they fell apart, a trail of saliva still connecting them. Ian ground forwards as he pushed Mickey’s hips closer, and Mickey let out an involuntary moan at that, a lot higher than what he expected.

 

Suddenly, Ian was pulling away and swiftly making his way out of the river. Mickey stared back in confusion, before Ian turned around and ushered him to follow. Mickey scrambled out of the water, droplets splashing him as he raced to catch up, his breath coming out in pants and his dick impossibly hard.

 

Eventually, they reached a secluded part of the forest, not too far from the river, but Ian wasted no time in attacking Mickey’s mouth with his own.

 

Mickey had his arms wound tightly around Ian’s neck, and gasped into his mouth as two large hands gripped his thighs and lifted him onto Ian’s hips.

 

Ian’s erection was rubbing against Mickey’s ass, and he unconsciously ground down to feel the size of it but ended up moaning over the vibrations of Ian’s groan in his chest.

 

In contrast to their kissing, Ian lowered Mickey down softly onto the floor, his back feeling as though he was on a mattress instead on the hard, dusty ground. He parted his legs instantly, winding them around Ian’s hips and rocking up to copy Ian’s thrusts downwards to chase the release he needed.

 

Ian broke apart around the same time he stopped his thrusts, and Mickey wined at the sudden loss, and if he’d made that noise with anyone else he would’ve been embarrassed, but with Ian he revelled in the fact it only seemed to turn him on more.

 

A hand trailed up from where it was gripping Mickey’s thigh and long digits were ran over Mickey’s lips, automatically making him part them around an exhale.

 

“Suck,” Ian instructed in a gruff voice, and Mickey nodded his consent before three fingers were slipped into his mouth. He gagged over the sudden intrusion at first, but quickly became used to it and ran his tongue around and in between the fingers, eyes fluttering open and closed.

 

Ian withdrew the fingers once he deemed them ready and wasted no time in trailing them down Mickey’s body and to the place he’d been craving them the most.  The first finger had Mickey’s back arching and breathless moan escaping his mouth. He had one hand clinging to Ian’s shoulder for dear life, and the other uselessly laying on the ground above his head, but soon Ian’s unoccupied hand found his way there.

 

The second and third fingers were added swiftly after once Mickey confirmed he was ready, and soon he was writhing around on the floor, attempting to fuck down on the digits inside him.

 

“Please, please,” he whispered over and over again, knowing he needed something else, something bigger inside him. Ian curled his fingers one last time, smiling at Mickey’s gasp as he rubbed over his sweet spot, before removing them slowly and carefully.

 

Mickey collapsed back onto the ground, panting, before quickly signalling for Ian to get on with it.

 

“I’m clean, by the way. You?” Ian asked, and Mickey could hear how much he was struggling to form coherent sentences in his state. Mickey nodded quickly in affirmation, whispering a yes over an exhale, but inhaled again sharply when he felt Ian’s cock begin to slide inside him.

 

It was a lot bigger than the three fingers from before, bigger than anything Mickey’s had inside him really, but it felt fucking great, and the groan Ian let out once he was completely inside sent shivers racing down Mickey’s body.

 

“Move,” Mickey said after a minute with a light slap on Ian’s ass, but his hand was immediately captured by Ian’s and was placed above his head, just like the other.

 

He moaned breathlessly as Ian began a steady pace, his fingers squeezing Mickey’s every now and again. Eventually, they both became a frenzied mess, Ian’s pace quickening and becoming less rhythmic, whilst Mickey writhed from side to side, back arching and head thrashing.

 

“Wait, wait,” Mickey breathed as he felt heat pool at the bottom of his stomach. Ian immediately stopped, forehead glistening with sweat and breath unsteady, but his eyes were filled with concern. “I wanna- I wanna ride you.” The concern was immediately replaced by lust, and he slowly removed himself from Mickey as to not hurt him and flopped down onto his back.

 

Mickey allowed himself to eye Ian’s body, from his glistening chest to slick cock standing proud against his stomach. He licked his lips before he straddled Ian, and although he’d never done this before, he sat on Ian’s dick quickly and efficiently, making both of them cry out.

 

He rocked backwards and forwards to start out, hands flat against Ian’s chest as he got a taste of what this felt like and couldn’t help the continuous moans that escaped his lips over how full he felt. Eventually, instinct took over, and he lifted himself up slightly before slamming back down, yelling as it his directly where he wanted it to be.

 

Ian watched, mesmerised as Mickey bounced on his dick, head thrown back in ecstasy, and hands curling around nothing on his chest. They could both feel the heat pooling in their lower stomach, and Ian gripped Mickey’s hips as he began to thrust upwards, meeting Mickey’s own thrusts.

 

Mickey’s moans were continuous and punched out through open, kiss slicked lips, and Ian could physically see his orgasm building through the tremors that erupted through his body. A few thrusts later, and Ian was coming loudly into Mickey, Mickey’s own orgasm following swiftly afterwards.

 

They collapsed like puppets cut off their strings, Mickey’s head falling against Ian’s chest, and Ian’s arms instinctively wrapping around him.

 

They stayed like that for a while, panting heavily as they calmed down from their orgasms, and eventually Mickey pushed up from Ian’s chest to kiss him softly on the lips.

 

Mickey gasped one last time as he lifted himself off of Ian, twitching over the sudden feel of loss, but collapsed next to him, happy and sedated.

 

“You know,” Mickey started, voice hoarse “I usually don’t fuck someone until at least the second day of meeting them,” he joked, shuffling so he was facing Ian.

 

Ian laughed at that, but confusion was evident on his face. “We’ve known each other a week, Mickey,” Ian spoke softly, turning to face Mickey himself and lying a hand against his cheek.

 

Mickey’s brain was too blank to even try and comprehend that, so instead he shrugged it off. “Okay then, I usually don’t fuck until I know the persons surname.” He smiled brightly as Ian swiped his thumb over Mickey’s lips, appreciating all the affection. “Mines Milkovich, by the way.”

 

“Gallagher,” Ian replied, running a hand through Mickey’s hair.

 

And Mickey’s heart stopped, because he suddenly remembered why he thought Ian looked familiar.

 

Three summers ago, missing posters with a black and white photo of a young freckled boy with a crooked smile and a floppy haircut covered every blank surface in the Southside, and some in the Northside too. Mickey remembered because one of the Gallagher siblings had thrust a poster at him in tears, her hands shaking as she sobbed about her missing brother.

 

“Fuck, Ian,” Mickey whispered, his heart aching over something he couldn’t quite place. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Well you didn’t tell me your surname either,” Ian chuckled, eyes flickering everywhere on Mickey’s face. “You’re really beautiful.”

 

Mickey sat up abruptly, barely acknowledging Ian’s words, but he noticed how Ian’s face fell and his hand slammed uselessly against the floor.

 

“You’re Ian Gallagher, the missing kid from the Southside,” Mickey’s eyes were wide and frantic, trying to comprehend how he found the boy that was pronounced dead.

 

“No, I’m not. I’m Ian Gallagher, yeah, but I’ve never even been out of this forest,” Ian was sat up now, too, looking at Mickey with concern.

 

Suddenly, Mickey remembered the image he has saved on his phone. The little ginger haired female Gallagher had forcefully made him take a picture of the missing poster to show people, and Mickey had completely forgotten to delete it. Mickey scrambled up, his legs wobbly, and raced towards the river to find his bag, Ian following quickly behind.

 

He was panting as he flicked through the few photos in his camera roll, before shoving the phone into Ian’s hands. He saw the moment Ian realised Mickey wasn’t lying, his face dropped, his eyes dimmed, and his hands shook.

 

“W-What? I don’t understand?” He was looking between Mickey and the phone now, his breath speeding up and tears began welling up in his eyes. Ian was lost, and Mickey believed him when he said he didn’t understand.

 

“Ian,” He said softly, placing a delicate hand against his warm shoulder. He plucked the phone from Ian’s grip, but his gaze didn’t move from his cupped hands.

 

“I don’t remember this. I don’t remember anything except the forest,” he was whispering but his words were coming out thick and fast. “Why don’t I remember, Mickey?” Suddenly, Ian was looking at Mickey, tears streaming down his pale face, dripping from his wide, emerald eyes. Mickey had never felt more sympathy for someone in his life.

 

“C’mon, let’s put some clothes on and go somewhere private,” Mickey suddenly became aware of the probing eyes watching them from the water and couldn’t deal with having to explain the situation to them too.

 

Ian nodded and sniffled once to keep the tears at bay before slowly and meticulously putting on his clothes. Mickey watched Ian as he put on his own clothes, and hesitantly put a comforting hand on the small of his back as they walked away from the river.

 

They eventually found another fallen tree to sit on and Mickey waited patiently as he watched Ian think and stare at the ground below them.

 

“Did you used to know me?” Ian eventually whispered, tears still falling down his cheeks, but he barely acknowledged them.

 

“I knew of you,” Mickey agreed with a nod. “The Gallagher family was pretty notorious in the Southside, six kids with an alcoholic dad and runaway mum.” He chuckled darkly.

 

“I had siblings?” Ian asked in wonder, eyes wide and facing Mickey now. Mickey nodded with a smile, placing a light hand on Ian’s thigh as he went back to staring at the floor.

 

Minutes of silence past, before Ian suddenly inhaled and blurted out “I want to see them.”

 

Mickey’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and Ian quickly caught on. “I want to go see my family, I want to leave the forest.” Ian elaborated, his voice sure and confident, even with his face wet from tear tracks.

 

“Yeah, Yeah, Okay,” Mickey said, nodding. “Do you wanna- “he started, pointing towards the direction of the river, but Ian was already shaking his head no.

 

“They’ll just ask questions, we have to go now.” Ian was already walking off through the trees, knowing Mickey would immediately follow again.

 

They walked for hours upon hours, most of it spent in contemplative silence on Ian’s behalf as his face was on a perpetual state of furrowed eyebrows and frowning lips.

 

They kept passing trees that Mickey deemed familiar but hope of getting out of the forest before sunset seemed impossible. Even with the quick pace they’d set, it seemed as if the thick trees were never ending.

 

Soon though, they heard laughter and voices, and Ian looked up at Mickey with wide eyes before rushing off towards the source of the sound. Mickey followed quickly afterwards, heart beating fast in his chest, but halted right beside Ian as he took in his surroundings.

 

A river. Naked men and woman bathing or playing in it. Piles of clothes strewn hazardously on the bank.

 

“What?” Mickey breathed out, confused, as he took in the sight of Pearl’s pink hair a couple of metres from them.

 

But Ian continued on. He stormed off in a different direction, pace almost lightning fast. Mickey followed, of course, but he couldn’t help his gaze from shooting around the familiar surroundings.

 

It was barely an hour later when they heard voices again, and dread dawned on both of them as they hesitantly trod their way towards the river.

 

“Ian, stop- “Mickey started as he saw Ian begin walking again. Mickey didn’t follow this time, just stared defeatedly at the clear water. Fifteen minutes later, Ian was back by his side. Only briefly though, for he continued on his trek his steps becoming faster and more frantic until they were practically a sprint. He always came back, the duration between him leaving and returning becoming shorter and shorter.

 

“Ian!” Mickey yelled, forcefully placing his hand on Ian’s shoulder after he left and came back in under five minutes. “Stop,” he whispered, sounding as defeated as he looked.

 

“I don’t, I don’t- “Ian repeated over and over again to himself as he collapsed on the ground, head in hands. Mickey sat down beside him, hand running comforting circles on his back.

 

“Looks like we’re stuck here, huh?” Mickey eventually said as he allowed Ian to rest his head on his shoulder. Mickey’s gaze trailed over the river and the people who seemed so happy spraying each other with glistening water, accepting the fact this would be it for now.

 

‘He had Ian though’ he thought, burying his nose in Ian’s ginger hair and inhaling. ‘That was enough’

 

——

 

Mickey and Ian eventually forgot their attempted escape. In fact, the only thing Mickey could remember now was the forest.

 

The memories of his mother and sister laughing and holding him tight where the first to go, followed by shooting practice and getting high with his older brothers.

 

The last to go were the memories of the screaming and yelling. The memories of his mother’s dead body cold on the bathroom floor. The fuzzy memories of heads being slammed against walls and fists colliding with already broken ribs.

 

All he had now, as he waded through the trees, barefoot and hands entangled with his lovers, was the forest. And Ian.

 

——

“Mickey?” The worry in the voice on the other end of the phone made her roll her eyes, teeth gritting as she cringed.

 

“No, sorry, this is Heather from the Black Hills Motel.” She put on a polite, high pitched voice, smirking at her own perfect act. “Your brother wrote you- Mandy- down as the emergency contact and, well, he hasn’t been seen here in over a month.”

 

“Shouldn’t you have phoned me earlier?” Mandy’s voice was shrill and irritating, her tone frustrated and angry. Heather internally sighed, this was the part she hated the most.

 

“Well, he’d initially paid for three weeks,” Heather replied with a smirk as she looked down at Mickey’s details- 4 days were booked at maximum. “So, we needn’t thought there was a reason to report. Now, however, he hasn’t been back to pick up his belongings.”

 

“Okay,” Mandy eventually sighed, her breath crackling over the speaker. “Okay thank you.”

 

“No problem,” Heather replied, hanging up before Mandy could get another word in. She slammed the phone down against the wood of the desk table, before popping in some gum in her mouth to chew on.

 

She blew a bubble with her gum as a young woman wobbled down the stairs, a large bag pack secured tightly over her shoulders.

 

Heather smirked. “You got enough food?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comment and Kudos if you enjoyed?  
> Twitter: mikhailomeddows  
> 


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